Switzerland

It’s a cold and grey German afternoon. Both, the thought of seeing my family and friends again soon and the seat heater give off heat. The lonely highway is covered with a thin, white layer. Like someone intended to roll out the red carpet, but the annual Christmas stress let that person reach for the wrong color. It’s just another 30 minutes to my home. The song, the radio channel decides to play in this particular moment, could not have phrased it any more suitable. “I’m driving home for Christmas”.

…Ohh I can’t wait to see those faces…

Alright, alright.. Since this is my last post for now, I don’t wanna leave you with such a terrible catchy tune. Dear reader, stop humming right now, I’ll give you a much better earworm.

…And though I’m nobody’s poet, I thought it wasn’t half bad…

The living- and at the same time bedroom gets lit up by a lonesome candle. It’s the first Sunday in Advent. A huge glass front that separates me from the attached balcony, offers a scenic view, although the darkness tries desperately to hide it. I can still make out the outlines of a mountain summit. Matterhorn.

...Yes I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain…

Slow, repetitive dancing steps, which appear to look quite professional in my own little word. Movements, that make the time stand still for 4 minutes. Squandered dopamine. No, utilized dopamine.

...I’m not much into health food, I am into champagne…

Champagne, in Zermatt…a slight grin. ‘A bottle of champagne would cost more money, than I spent during the last 3 months in total’, I reckon and lead a with mulled wine filled mug towards my lips, kiss it profoundly and enjoy the view. I do enjoy the moment. I enjoy these last days of my second journey’s stage.

When I arrived at Corinas apartment in Zermatt a few days earlier, I rang the bell, waited for the door to open and as soon as it did, I witnessed something I did not expect at all. I am not talking about the 23 years old Austrian girl, who tied her curly hair back in a familiar motion as I do, but all these cardboard moving boxes. Her lean, almost slender physique, made her travel stories even more impressive. Corina rode a motorbike through India, Nepal and Vietnam and uses the current winter season for saving some more trip money in Zermatt by working as a waitress. Surrounded by bald walls and blank furniture, we gathered some first impressions while we were sitting on her ‘former’ king size bed. The ‘handjob dude’ story is still able to make people laugh. “It’s time, we gotta go”, she says, grabs the first carton and starts moving out, with me as her personal moving allowance.

Entering her new apartment for the first time made me shake my head. Such a stunning balcony view, tourists would spend a shit load of money on it. At least that’s what I expect after spotting a 600 Euro scarf in one of the clothing stores. We decide to have a tiny housewarming party, or at least an inauguration beer. Do you know these conversations, that make you fully forget about the time?“Fuck, it’s 7 AM”. It was time to sleep.

A fiercely flaring chimney fire. Not a real one, but one of these modern ‘screen-fires’ plus heater. I spread my laptop stuff on an old fashioned, hazelnut-brown colored table and get served with the most expensive coffee I have ever ordered. The price for spending 7 hours in a Wifi area in Zermatt, the price for working on my blog. While I was writing a couchsurfing reference for Kathy, a young, blond girl, sitting on the adjoining table, suddenly started talking to me.

Life has its ups and downs. If this is a truism indeed, I must have been climbing a massive mountain recently. Not a Matterhorn, more like a Kilimanjaro. The last few weeks, even months, could merely be described by using superlatives. “Excuse me, I just saw you using couchsurfing. I have an apartment nearby, I could host you if you want.”, says Greta from Estonia, while throwing a warm smile at my face. The innocent spark in her eyes convinces me of this being a generous offer, rather than a straight way of getting me laid. I’ll never find out.

“I wish you a merry first week of Advent”, a young schoolchild greets me, while I walk by, searching for the hiking trail. The weather turned from grey and cloudy to blue and sunny. 2 beautiful days I mostly spent hiking around the Matterhorn area. Something hasn’t changed compared to Scandinavia. I am still the only idiot, who stomps through the snow wearing cord trousers and cowboy boots.

… I am into champagne…

are the words, the Pina Colada song is slowly fading out with. I bid goodbye, do a half twist and bow down before the imaginary audience. A silent applause. An hour later Corina comes back from her late shift in a sports bar. Again it’s gonna take until early morning before we end up in bed. 2 days later I’ll get up around the same time, prepare myself for an exhausting day by cooking a Gordon Ramsay scrambled egg and leave Corina in the direction of Zurich.

I leave Zermatt with 2 polished toenails, she got a brief ‘boost of creativity’. Since I owe you an ‘ugly heart‘ anyways, I take the opportunity and demonstrate both works of art. And well…the avocado...I’m gonna tell you about it at some point down the line.

It will take me 2 lifts to reach Zurich. 2 lorry drivers. Beat, the Swiss form of Bert, tortures me with Swiss brass music and a Swiss-German dialect, I could not have understood any less. The second truck driver is a bearded, young, tattooed guy – these are the worst – called Kai. He leaves the music to a radio channel. “California….California….here we cooooome”. We both wallow in Mischa Barton memories.

Once again, I stay with Philipp. Another 3 nights in Zurich. Withing these last days, I ended up buying a new smartphone, got invited to a wine tasting and lost several billiard matches. I leave Philipp’s apartment on Saturday morning. Quite early by my standards.The last day of this second stage. I got invited to Kaiserslautern, the city I once studied in. I got invited to a Christmas Headis Tournament, a sport I once actively played. Headis, that’s similar to table tennis but with a bigger ball and you play it with your head instead of bats. 500 kilometers. A realistic, even though optimistic distance. I hope, I haven’t reached the summit yet.

5 Lifts later, I find myself standing on a petrol station near Mannheim. It’s just 100 kilometers separating me and the tournament. A skinny, tall girl gets off a panel van and tries to fight fatigue by some stretching exercises and a coke. As a bearded, tattooed hitch hiker, wearing ripped off trousers, asking people for lifts in the dark, I would estimate the chances of a very pretty single girl saying ‘yes‘ to be rather low. “Of course”, says the 23 years old Laura, who’s currently studying social work in Trier, but considers becoming a wakeboard teacher at some point. In South America. She takes a 30 minutes detour and brings me right to the sports hall. I leave Laura with a grateful hug and the slight feeling of an upcoming reunion at a later time. Calling it now! Through the kindness of her and 5 other people, I arrived right on time for the semi finals. A successful surprise.

Since I left home again about 3 months ago, this time towards Scandinavia, I hitched almost exactly 11.000 kilometers. That’s even more than I hitched on my journey’s first stage. This second stage pushed my body to its limits. A stage, I met incredible people on and witnessed breathtaking natural wonders. A stage, clarifying once again that I made the right decision a couple of months ago.

Within the next few days I’m gonna do some research and I will be back with a final conclusion in addition to my upcoming travel plans. If all works out it’s gonna be something like this:

In January, I’m gonna hitch hike from South Africa to Egypt.

Until then, a piece of cardboard, marked with Köln (Cologne), decorates one of my room’s walls and reminds me of these last 3 months. A sign, I used in September, when I first started hitch hiking North. A sign, I frequently slept on. A sing, that accompanied me for 11.000 kilometers. A sign which makes clear, obstacles only exist when you take your eyes off your goals.

…I’m the love that you’ve looked for, come with me and escape..if you like Pina Coladas…

An ugly heart, tattooed on my big toe. V+P is written in the inside. An old memory. An almost forgotten bet. The ugly heart is a symbol for my semester abroad in Australia. It’s the name of our predestined ‘Australia song’. An annoying song, sang by a TV cast ‘girl group’. “It’s such a pity a boy so pretty, with an ugly heart”, sung by multible female voices, accompanied by a mix of guitar sounds and electronic basses. ‘Ugly heart‘, a name, that is also written on my backpack, surrounded by the names of my closest ‘Australia friends’. An incomplete list of names. A list, that is about to get completed in Switzerland.

Prague. Women with sparkling eyes gather around expensive jewelry shops which are presenting items, not any less sparkling than these people’s eyes. Women, who will most likely never be able to buy this kind of jewelry. Dreams.

An old jukebox in front of worn down pinkish couches. An old jukebox, I try to find any good song on for at least 10 minutes. Unsuccessfully. “Yeah, I’m in for another beer“, becomes one of the most frequent used phrases on this evening, while Bon Jovi tortures my ears. I don’t miss Norway. The morning after I leave the apartment, strolling around towards a shopping mall, blinded by the uprising sun, slowed down my a familiar headache. I miss Norway.

John Lennon wall is the name, Lonely Planet books refer to this wall as. A name, the wall doesn’t live up to nowadays. By this time, almost all John Lennon related graffiti are covered by random paintings. I watch a young English boy spraying ghosts and hearts on the wall, and ugly heart straight next to a giant dick and the word ‘cunt‘. A sight that makes me grin while I enjoy the sun in Prag, rolling a cigarette. Also the woman on the right sight is able to entertain me. Passion. I’ve never seen someone performing contortions like she did, just in order to take a selfie. I wish I could have a look at the result.

Klara, my last-minute host in Prague, works a lot, but still never rejects an offer to spend her evenings together in the city center. “Yeah, I take a beer as well”. In addition to that, Klara causes another one of these “Fuck, it’s such a small world” moments. As it turns out, me and Klara’s former highschool desk-neighbour ‘Marek‘ hitch hiked together in Bosnia, about 5 months ago. We got picked up by the same lift and ended up waving down cars together on the day after.

I leave Klara’s apartment on Friday morning. That is to say Friday noon because I’m both, a lazy dude and an optimist. It is 1 PM when I start putting up my thumb in direction of the cars, entering the highway. It takes me 6 lift to get near Siegen. 500 kilometers that brought me to the last petrol station before the Swiss border. A rich business man, a Swiss guy, sharing his doubts about their upcoming marriage, a young, German couple driving to their parents for a weekend trip, a couple from Hungary, a courier from Prague and a truck driver, who buys 20 cans of beer at the last petrol station in Czech. Classic. 2 of these cans will make my backpack a bit heavier until I reach Zurich.

On this evening, I”ll go to sleep with 3 different business cards, squeezed in my wallet. “Call me in case you need any help”, is the most common reason, they hand over their cards for. It was half past midnight when I reached the petrol station near Singen. The price you have to pay if you leave that late. Erkan shares his petrol station dinner with him. He works in the real estate sector around the world. He is driving in a different direction but we still end up having a little chat. When he leaves me, obviously after handing over his business card, I decide to call it a day. It’s time for another night at a petrol station!

Zurich. Women with sparkling eyes gather around expensive jewelry shops, which are presenting items, not any less sparkling than these people’s eyes. Women, who are able to buy this kind of jewelry. Dreams that won’t remain dreams. My visit in Zurich starts with a post due reunion. Philipp, an old friend from Australia. I consider him and Vi, the girl I stayed in Bochum with 2 months ago, as my closest friends from that time. V+P. An almost forgotten bet. His name next to the ‘Ugly heart’ stroke on my rucksack, completes this memory. Good times, we drink a toast to. A glass of wine, which appears in comparison to the shit we drank in Australia as expensive, late harvest wine.

Glowing buildings, the smell of mulled wine, which apparently lets people in Zurich lose their sense for money and most likely drunk men in an ice-skate area, trying to impress girls by toppling down Hollywood-style, leave no doubt. Christmas time has started. I hear ‘Let it snow‘ from afar. It reminds me of my first blog post. It reminds me of the beginning of a journey, that started over 7 months ago.

Berna, one of my closest university friends, also moved to Zurich 2 weeks ago. Another reunion. I’ll be the first guest in her new apartment. A first guest, neither me or she did expect. I spend my last days in Zurich with Kathy, a girl I met in north Norway about 1 month ago. She spends November back home with her family, in an old farm house, built in a rural area near Zurich. “Eggs for sell”, written on a wooden sign in front of her entrance gives you an idea of her village’s size. It reminds me of my home.

Sight seeing, cheese fondue and Netflix documentations while lazying on her couch. I could not describe the 2 days I stayed with her any better. On Wednesday morning, Kathy drops me at a petrol station near the Zurich airport. My next destination: One of the most expensive and exquisite ski areas in Switzerland, straight at the foot of Matterhorn. Zermatt. My next Couchsurfing host ‘Corina‘ awaits me in the evening. Unfortunately I’ll have to put her off until the day after. But that’s something I did not know by the time, I started talking to people on that morning. On woman working for the petrol station offers me a free tea, a taxi driver gives me a croissant and an elderly lady picks me up, after I asked people for about 2 hours. “I usually never pick up hitch hikers but you seem to be pretty likeable.”A sentence, that made me happy. A sentence, my friends back in Germany will probably laugh about.

A lift, that lures me with a convincing “I know the perfect spot you should hitch from. It’s a petrol station and almost every car goes South“, shoots down my scheduled arrival. Sudden chaotic snowfall doesn’t make it any easier either.6 hours later, I decide to hitch back in reverse direction. Once again, I end up near Bern. Stunned by a beautiful scenic lake view, I slowly set up my tent, sheltered by a public toilet. A night, that will remind me of Norway with its minus degrees. I don’t miss Norway.

The fear of Swiss policeman fining me, gives me nightmares and makes me get up even before sunrise. It’s freezing cold, so cold, I can’t even feel my finger tips anymore. Back to the ‘asking people for a lift’game. A friendly woman donates a Swiss chocolate bar and wishes me good luck. I wish I could tell her that her wish actually got fulfilled. 5 Minutes and elderly lorry driver shows up. “Excuse me, are you heading towards Montreaux by any chance? I’m trying to get to Zermatt”, I ask in a polite voice. A slight grin. “Seems like it’s your lucky day. I have to pick up some metal in Zermatt“, says the truck driver, who’s name I could not understand even after asking twice.

Lucky day. It was indeed, even my host in Zermatt turned out to be a lucky find. But I’m gonna tell you more about that in my next post…

Until then, I’ll keep on trying to create more of these beautiful memories. Women, throwing ‘Hallelujahs‘ around, uncommon weddings, true angels, bygone traveling acquaintances or ugly hearts. Furthermore, my journey is facing a turning point. A new direction, a new adventure that could not be any more exciting. An adventure, that is still uncertain. An adventure, I’ll tell you about in my next blog post as well.

It’s also gonna be my last one before I’ll hitch back home to spend Christmas and New Years Eve with my family and friends.